


Action to love

by DracoIgnis



Series: Kiss me [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jonerys, Kissing, Politics, Winterfell, relationship, s8 fix it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 00:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20462105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoIgnis/pseuds/DracoIgnis
Summary: After the feast, Jon seeks Daenerys to apologise - and perhaps more. Jonerys flashfic with original artwork.





	Action to love

**Author's Note:**

> Written based on a kiss prompt request on Tumblr, prompt being: "When one stops the kiss to whisper “I am sorry, are you sure you-” and they answer by kissing them more". Art by DragonandDirewolf. Hope you will enjoy!

..

There were many things Jon could say: I want you, I need you, I _crave _for you, the taste of you and the feel of you and just being with you, wherever, however, whenever. But when Daenerys opened the door, all he could muster was a meek: “Hello.”

_Was I brave to come, or just a fool?_ Jon wondered as Daenerys wordlessly stepped aside and allowed him to cross the threshold. As the door closed behind them, so did the sounds from the feast. The great hall suddenly seemed far away, as if this chamber was another world. A quiet one.

Jon stopped by the fireplace. For a moment, he watched the crackling flames as he tried to make sense of everything he wanted to say. But before he could speak, Daenerys broke the silence:

“You abandoned me.”

Jon glanced toward her. There she stood, back straight and her hands perfectly folded in front of her, as if she was attending a diplomatic meeting. Her words, however harsh, were less an accusation than they were a declaration. Her face too was neutral - but her eyes betrayed her. In the flickering light, Jon could see how they were glossed. _She does not want to cry, _Jon thought_, and why should she?_

“I apologise-”

“That’s a fine statement, my lord,” Daenerys spoke. “As fine as _my condolences, _or_ my sympathies. _They are but phrases of politeness. Is this how you wish to continue?”

Jon wetted his lips. “I didn’t come to battle with words,” he said.

“But you came to battle?” Daenerys enquired.

Jon felt his cheeks flush. “You misunderstand.”

“And you abandoned me,” Daenerys repeated, “at the feast. Did you speak a word to me, did you acknowledge me?”

“I didn’t realise our relation was to be _publicized_.”

“Our _relation_?” She smiled. It was a sad one, but nonetheless as smile. Her hands parted as she slowly walked past him toward the window. She stopped to glance outside, but he wasn’t certain she was looking at anything in particular. “Jon, you asked me to come to help. I don’t know what you think of us-”

“I think-”

“-but it is irrelevant.” She turned to face him, and Jon felt his throat clench as her eyes caught his. They were wet. “Whatever is between us, I came as an ally. I came to help the North. If you treated any other house the way you treated me tonight, they would scorn your very name. Yet here I am.” She gestured around her. “Inviting you into my chamber. Perhaps I am brave, perhaps I am a fool.”

“Why would you be a fool?” Jon asked, his voice soft. He stepped closer to her, slowly, as if scared she would recoil.

But she remained where she was, watching him as he approached, her hands by her sides, her cheeks wet. “Because,” she spoke, her voice barely a whisper.

Jon reached out, placing one hand on her waist, one on her cheek, drawing her closer,

“Because _I believed in us._”

Jon slowly wiped her cheeks. His fingertips slipped across the softness of her chin, her neck, her nape. They tickled down her spine as he urged her closer, and she complied, pushing into his body as he wrapped his arms around her, pressed his nose to her hair, and held her close. For a moment, they just stood there, together, the fire warming their right, the cool breeze from the window slipping in on their left, and if Jon didn’t know better, he could believe they remained like that for years.

In the moment, it was all he wanted and all he needed. Just holding her close. Just feeling her heartbeat. Just being _together_.

But he needed to speak: “Daenerys,” he mumbled to her hair, and she leaned back, looking into his eyes, “what I said, in the crypt-” He paused, expecting her to interrupt, but, as she did not, he continued: “I no longer know who I am.”

Daenerys’ eyes softened and she reached up to touch his cheek. “That,” she said, “is only for you to figure you.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“Then stop acting as if you have.”

He kissed her. Her lips parted in surprise, and he allowed himself in. His tongue sought across her teeth, then past them, further, until he stroked across hers. She was warm and wet, and she pushed back against him, making his hands tug at her dress, pull her closer.

_I want you,_ he thought, pushing her forward until she was against the wall, his frame covering hers, _and nothing else matters._

It was only as she gasped into his mouth that he broke the kiss, a sudden realisation of what he was doing dawning on him. He looked down at her; her cheeks, flustered, her eyes, unfocused, her hands, pressed to his chest, her back, trapped against the wall. He drew in air: “Daenerys, I’m sorry,” he breathed, his fingers untangling themselves from her as he took a step back. But she followed, her hands still on his chest, “-are you sure you-?”

She pushed. He reached about as he fell, feeling panicked until his back hit something soft. For a moment, he was disoriented, but before he knew of it, he found he was on her bed, and she was atop him, her lips back on his, kissing him deeply.

_She wants me too_, he realised, his eyes closing and his hands reaching up between her locks, grabbing a hold of her head as he turned them over, straddling her thighs as he pressed his body down upon her. _She wants me too. She wants me too. She wants me._

That’s when it dawned on him. His hands on her waist, under her skirt, up her legs. That’s when it dawned on him. Her lips on his, her hands on his belt, his shirt soon gone. Their mouths gasping for air yet not parting. That’s when it dawned on him -_ it was never about the words he spoke, but the actions he took._ The conscious action to love, and be loved. And he had just made the first step.


End file.
